The waste was enormous, our table very bad and the rest correspondingly so. Whenever we happened to have visitors, Juliette would order from Bignon the rarest and most elaborate dishes. I viewed with displeasure the uncommon intimacy, a sort of bond of friendship, which had sprung up between Juliette and Celestine. When dressing her mistress, the maid told her stories which the former enjoyed immensely; she disclosed improper secrets of the homes where she had served and advised Juliette in all matters. "At Mme. K's they do it this way--at Mme. V's they do it that way." That they were "swell places" goes without saying. Juliette often went into the linen room where Celestine was sewing and stayed there for hours, seated on a heap of bed sheets, listening to the inexhaustible gossip of the servant-girl.... From time to time an argument would arise over some stolen thing or some neglected duty. Celestine would get excited, hurling the grossest insults, knocking the furniture, screaming in her squeaky voice:
"Well!... Many thanks to you!... This is some dirty place!... A goose like that has the nerve to accuse one!... Well look here, my pretty one, I am going to shake myself free from you and your boob over there who has the face of a dunce."
Juliette would tell her to get out immediately, not wishing her even to stay out her week.
"Yes, yes! Pack up at once, you nasty girl ... right away!"
She would come to sulk in my presence, pale and trembling:
"Ah! my dear, that vile creature, that wretched woman!... And I who was so kind to her!..."
In the evening they would make up again, and amidst laughter which resounded louder than ever, Celestine's voice would bawl out:
"I should say the Countess was a rude slut!"
"Your little wifie has nothing to put on. She is as naked as a new born child, the poor thing!"
And so there were new visits to the dressmaker's, to the milliner's, to the linen shop; and she again became gay, vivacious, affectionate. The shadow of boredom which had crossed her countenance disappeared.... In the midst of materials, laces, among plumes and gewgaws, her whole being expanded and shone forth. Her tender fingers experienced a physical delight in handling satin, in touching crepe, in stroking velvet, in losing themselves in the milky white waves of fine batiste. The smallest piece of silk, when she draped it into something, at once assumed the pretty appearance of a living thing; out of braid and lace trimmings she could draw the most exquisite harmonies. Although I was very much alarmed by these expensive whims, I could not refuse Juliette anything, and I abandoned myself to the joy of seeing her so happy, to the delight of seeing her so charming--her, whose beauty rendered all inanimate objects about her beautiful, her, who put the breath of gracious life into everything she touched!